Chapter 14

Buffalo, New York

December 24, 1985

Alexei settled onto the couch next to Joyce and took a sip of his hot chocolate. It was the first time the two of them had sat with nothing to do in weeks. The house hadn't been silent for even a moment when Jonathan's girlfriend Nancy and Will's friend Mike had visited for the feasting holiday Thanksgiving, and then the whole world had seemed to pick up speed as people bought more food, clothes and knickknacks than they could ever possibly need. He'd continued working both his jobs, and Joyce had picked up extra shifts to pay for train tickets to send the boys and El back to see their friends, while calling all of her friends to make sure each child would have a bed. He'd offered to watch the house if she'd wanted to go, but she hadn't taken him up on the offer. Maybe she'd wanted this quiet time too.

Joyce offered him a candy cane, as she called it, and what already seemed like a perfect drink was somehow even better. He smiled as they watched the snow fall. He'd need to shovel again tomorrow, but he didn't really mind it. The Americans seemed to think the winter was terribly cold, but it really wasn't – just wet. And though he'd never admit it, he liked it when he was out shoveling and the neighbors waved to him. Because they accepted him as another American like them, clearing his patch of sidewalk. But also because of the unspoken assumption. He was a man doing this chore for a woman he lived with, and people interpreted that one way. They couldn't know he slept on the couch, and he felt that gave him a certain dignity.

"What do people do in Russia on Christmas Eve?" Joyce asked.

"Nudding."

"Nothing at all?"

He thought a moment. "People do New Year's. Not Christmas." He pointed at the tree twinkling in the corner. "Ve had a New Year's tree. New Year's presents."

"New Year's hot chocolate?"

"New Year's vodka."

Joyce smiled. "Do you make New Year's resolutions?"

"Vat does dis vord mean?"

"Things you want to do better next year. People say they'll lose weight, or quit smoking, or start exercising."

"I do not dink ve do dis."

"You're not missing anything. Nobody keeps them."

"Den vy dey do it?"

"Because people always think this is the year when they'll do better." Alexei nodded. Americans were optimistic like that. It was understandable. They had so much already. Why wouldn't they believe everything else was in their grasp?

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments. "Ven do Americans give de presents?" Alexei asked.

"Normally on Christmas morning, but we could do it tonight if you want. It's not like we have to wait for Santa."

"Vat is Santa?" Joyce explained the old man who flew around giving toys. "Oh, dat is Grandfadder Frost."

"I like that name. Grandfather Frost."

"So ve can give presents?" He probably sounded like a child, but he'd been itching to see Joyce's face when she opened her gift. She laughed and pulled a box from under the tree. It was wrapped in shiny red paper with a green bow. He carefully removed the tape, in case she wanted to save the lovely wrapping, and opened the box. Inside was a dark blue jacket, with a knitted black hat and gloves. He held up the jacket. It was thick, with padding on the inside.

"I know you say you're not cold, but it's going to be a long winter," she said. He smiled and thanked her. Even if it really wasn't cold, he would have joyous thoughts every time he put it on, because she had thought of him. Then he grabbed the card he had bought for Joyce.

She smiled as she opened the card, which had a picture of a Christmas tree and what seemed like an appropriate greeting on the front. Then her mouth dropped open when she saw the check.

"For Jonadan's school," he said.

"I can't possibly accept this."

"A gift."

"Yes, it's very generous." He wasn't sure of that word. "Very kind. But where did you get this much money?"

"Night job."

"I thought you were saving up for your own place."

Oh. He had misunderstood all along. He had thought Joyce liked their arrangement as much as he did. Foolish Alyosha, always going where he wasn't wanted. He stared at the jacket in its box. Suddenly its meaning was absolutely clear. He needed to find his way out in the cold. "You vant me to go."

"No, no, I didn't mean that. I just thought you'd be tired of sleeping on the couch."

"It is comfortable. But I go soon."

"Alexei." She took his hand. He stared at her little fingers. She'd never done that before. "All I meant was that I never expected something like this. No one has ever done anything so generous – so kind – for me. I'm lucky to have such a friend." She hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. He held onto her just a fraction too long, hoping his blushing would subside. "I'm happy to have you here as long as you want to stay." He wanted to stay forever, but it seemed the wrong moment to say it. He just smiled and nodded.

Later, after Joyce had gone to bed, he laid on the couch and wrapped himself tight in the blankets, pretending she was hugging him again. His cheek tingled when he thought about being kissed. It had been more than three years since he'd had any kind of physical affection. Joyce didn't know it, but it was the finest gift she could have given him. He smiled in the dark. Perhaps he would try this American custom and make a resolution: next year, he would make Joyce Byers so happy that she never wanted to stop kissing him.